[You look good in a white lab coat.]
Lu Zhao glanced at the text message and pressed the button to turn off his phone.
This was the second time this week he had received a harassing text. The last one came a few afternoons ago, and this one was late at night.
Lu Zhao had given his number out to quite a few people, including no shortage of those from his online hookup circles, but not many knew his actual profession. His immediate thought was Zhou Zefeng, who had come to the hospital the previous day, but he quickly dismissed the idea.
The image of Zhou Zefeng solemnly vowing that he was straight was still vivid in his mind.
Lu Zhao routinely blocked the number. But after taking a shower that night, boredom set in, so he pulled it back out of his blacklist and sent a polite reply: [Thank you.]
/
Earlier that evening, when Zhou Zefeng was heading back to the dorm after playing basketball, he happened to pass by the sports medicine laboratory. Glancing through the window, he saw a group of classmates wearing white lab coats, which instantly reminded him of the Lu Zhao he had just seen that morning.
He pulled out his phone and fired off a message.
Later that night while lying in bed, the image of Lu Zhao in that white coat made Zhou Zefeng’s heart flutter for no clear reason. Alarmed by his own reaction, he immediately opened Twitter. His homepage immediately pushed a photo of a beautiful girl in black stockings, and he felt a sudden surge of excitement. Along with the arousal came a massive sigh of relief—Thank goodness, I’m still normal.
Yet in the very next second, the image of Lu Zhao’s legs clads in those black suit pants from that day flashed through his mind. Although Lu Zhao was slightly shorter than him, his proportions were excellent, and his legs were long and slender. If he were to wear black stockings…
Zhou Zefeng became even more worked up, his thoughts spiraling completely out of control.
After cleaning himself up, he bitterly despised himself, swallowed his medication with large gulps of water, and buried himself under the covers to force himself to sleep. Just as he was about to drift off, he was startled awake by the vibration of a text message.
Zhou Zefeng forced his eyes open to read the message. Staring at that single word, [Thank you], he fell into a speechless, choking stupor.
Choking on his thoughts, he eventually drifted off. The medication was extremely strong, knocking him into a heavy sleep, but it was far from restful. He was tormented by a flood of bizarre, surreal dreams, and woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, as if his skull were being torn apart.
During training the next morning, Zhou Zefeng failed to place in the top three during group drills. Afterward, the coach gave him a harsh scolding.
“Did taking a year off make you too comfortable, Zhou Zefeng? Are you slacking off now? Which athlete hasn’t dealt with injuries? I’m warning you, get back into shape right now!” The coach’s eyebrows bristled with rage as he stormed off without waiting for Zhou Zefeng to respond.
Zhou Zefeng wanted nothing more than a speedy recovery, but the more anxious he became, the worse the situation grew.
He dutifully took the medication for a week. While he could finally fall asleep at night, he could barely stay awake during the day. His condition was even worse than before, and he was relying entirely on muscle memory and sheer momentum to push through his daily routines.
On the night he finished his last dose of medication, Zhou Zefeng lay awake listening to the symphony of snores and teeth-grinding coming from his roommates. He thought to himself that maybe he really should just move out. Who knows, perhaps a change of environment would bring some improvement.
Or perhaps if he made himself even busier, the sheer exhaustion would naturally improve his sleep quality?
Zhou Zefeng recalled that at the start of the semester, the owner of the fitness club he had worked at the previous year had invited him back to coach swimming. He had declined back then, but thinking about it now, he deeply regretted it.
He found the owner’s WeChat and messaged him to ask if they were still short of instructors to open a new class.
The owner was likely already asleep. As Zhou Zefeng drifted off into a daze before sleep, he thought to himself that since his medication was officially finished, he finally had a completely legitimate reason to go to the hospital tomorrow.
Yet, to his surprise, things kept dragging on, and he wasn’t able to make the trip for several days.
Thus, on a certain rainy day, Lu Zhao crossed paths with Zhou Zefeng once again. He hadn’t brought an umbrella and was drenched from head to toe with his bangs plastered flat against his brow as he stood at the hospital entrance, looking exactly like a scruffy, bedraggled puppy.
Lu Zhao had been heading toward the parking garage, but upon spotting Zhou Zefeng, he turned back from the elevator and walked toward the entrance.
“Are you off work?”
Lu Zhao countered, “Are you here for a follow-up? Why aren’t you coming inside?”
“My pants are dripping wet,” Zhou Zefeng said while pointing toward the cleaning lady who was currently bent over, focusing hard on mopping the lobby floor. “Plus, the air conditioning is on. It’s a bit cold.”
“Did you register for an appointment?”
“No. I just passed by here after finishing my part-time shift. Your appointment slots are way too hard to snatch; I couldn’t get one.”
For some reason, Lu Zhao managed to detect a trace of grievance beneath his nonchalant tone.
“Why do you insist on booking my appointments?” Lu Zhao looked at him curiously. “Don’t blindly obsess over specialist slots.”
Zhou Zefeng was left speechless. Staring out at the pouring rain, he snapped, “I want to book it, so I tried to book it. Is that a crime?”
“Oh. Then try again tomorrow.” Lu Zhao wasn’t in the mood to bicker with him. Originally, seeing him drenched like a drowned rat made him want to lend him an umbrella. He had almost forgotten that the guy in front of him was homophobic; the fact that he probably found him unbearable yet still had to brace himself to book his appointment gave Lu Zhao a strange sense of satisfaction.
Seeing that Lu Zhao was about to walk back toward the elevator, Zhou Zefeng quickly reached out to grab him. Suddenly realizing his hand was still wet, he hurriedly pulled it back and wiped it on his pants—an action that Lu Zhao caught out of the corner of his eye and completely misinterpreted as something else entirely.
Lu Zhao’s face turned cold. “I’m already off the clock. If you need something, we can talk tomorrow.”
“Do you have an umbrella? Lend me one.” Zhou Zefeng said awkwardly, his tone incredibly stiff.
“It’s in the car.” Lu Zhao didn’t explicitly say whether he would lend it or not. He turned around and pressed the elevator button. Throwing caution to the wind, Zhou Zefeng shamelessly followed behind him all the way down to the parking garage. Lu Zhao opened his trunk, pulled out the sole umbrella inside, and handed it over to Zhou Zefeng.
Lu Zhao ignored him, walked around to the front of the car, got in, and started the engine. Glancing at the rearview mirror, he noticed Zhou Zefeng’s figure had disappeared. Man, that guy runs fast, Lu Zhao thought to himself. Suddenly, the passenger side door swung open. He whipped his head around to look, only to see Zhou Zefeng’s tall, broad frame squeezing inside, making himself right at home in the passenger seat.
“Why are you getting in? Get the hell out.” Lu Zhao said coldly.
“The umbrella is broken. Can you give me a lift? The rain is getting heavier,” Zhou Zefeng said, before adding, “The clothes on my body are almost dry, I won’t get your car dirty.”
“Is the umbrella broken?” Lu Zhao made a move to grab the umbrella from Zhou Zefeng’s hand, but Zhou Zefeng dodged it. Clutching the umbrella tightly, he instead grabbed Lu Zhao’s wrist, holding on so firmly that Lu Zhao couldn’t even shake him off.
Lu Zhao stared at him, utterly speechless. “What exactly do you want?”
Zhou Zefeng let go of his hand, looking somewhat resentful. “I want you to drive me back to school. The rain is pouring outside; why are you being so stingy? Worst case, I’ll bring something to the hospital next time to make it up to you.”
Lu Zhao glanced at the torrential downpour outside. It really wasn’t fit for walking. Yielding to the situation, he shifted the car into gear and, turning the steering wheel, said, “No need to compensate. As long as you don’t find it disgusting, I don’t care.”
“Why would I…” Halfway through his sentence, Zhou Zefeng recalled the words he had blurted out that day. Connecting his current behavior to his previous words did make him look like a massive hypocrite. He explained, “I find homosexuality disgusting, but I don’t find you disgusting.”
Lu Zhao shot a look at Zhou Zefeng. “I am a homosexual.”
Zhou Zefeng: “Do you even know how to hold a conversation?”
After a brief pause, he added very sincerely, “Actually, it was still pretty comfortable that day. Thank you.”
Lu Zhao had never seen anyone thank someone for that kind of thing in such a deadpan, serious tone. Nor had he ever seen a straight guy as painfully awkward as Zhou Zefeng; exploding one moment and perfectly obedient the next, but it was honestly rather amusing.
He turned on the car stereo, and a track of smooth, gentle jazz filled the space. Surrounded by the faint scent of orange blossoms, Zhou Zefeng leaned back in his seat, his face marked with exhaustion. Catching sight of him out of his peripheral vision, Lu Zhao asked casually, “Finished the medication?”
Zhou Zefeng nodded. “I can fall asleep now, but I’m completely groggy during the day. My training form has been terrible, and the coach keeps chewing me out. I stopped the medication last night, and the insomnia came right back.”
After speaking, he tilted his head to look at Lu Zhao. Even though Lu Zhao kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead, he could vaguely sense a hint of grievance directed at him.
“Perhaps that medication isn’t the right fit for you. Come to the hospital again tomorrow. Though, I still believe your primary issue is psychological; treating the symptoms won’t cure the root cause,” Lu Zhao said in a businesslike tone as he turned into the next intersection. “If it’s affecting your daily life to this extent, you might want to consider psychological counseling.”
A prolonged silence followed Lu Zhao’s words. He assumed Zhou Zefeng was contemplating the feasibility of therapy, but when he turned his head to check, the guy standing well over 180 centimeters curled up in the passenger seat, fast asleep.
Lu Zhao: ……
And you even claimed that you have insomnia. Why do I find that so hard to believe?
